


Deaf, Mute, or Blind to Each Other

by Andy_Braginsky



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Glowing Souls, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Soulmates, Souls, Stop aging at 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:36:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andy_Braginsky/pseuds/Andy_Braginsky
Summary: At eighteen, people stop aging, blessed or cursed to roam the earth until they find the one that can cause their soul to glow, and causes the other's to glow in return. Roderich has wandered the globe aimlessly for centuries, not even looking for his soul mate.-------Will no one notice the boy crying on the stairs? Not even the cat pauses as the boy sobs, tearing out a chunk of hair in his loneliness, barely even aware of the prickle of pain it leaves behind. Why was there no one for him? Why did the nine hundred years pass him by, his friends aging, yet he stayed eighteen in appearance?





	1. Voiceless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea.

December 20, 9:34 PM

    Will no one notice the boy crying on the stairs? Not even the cat pauses as the boy sobs, tearing out a chunk of hair in his loneliness, barely even aware of the prickle of pain it leaves behind. Why was there no one for him? Why did the nine hundred years pass him by, his friends aging, yet he stayed eighteen in appearance? Roderich cursed his soulmate (wherever he or she was) as he took a large gulp from his bottle, the wine burning his throat but numbing the pain. Absently the musician wondered what he would do if he ever _did_ meet his soulmate, the one he was ‘destined’ for. Would he fall into his arms, proclaiming his love? The Austrian sneered, setting the empty bottle to the side as he swayed unsteadily to his feet. Underneath his black boots, the snow creaked and crunched on the sidewalk, the street lights flickering at every intersection as the petite man made his way through the town and into the busier parts of the city.

   

Well, one couldn't even really call it a city, at least, not like one of those big bustling cities like New York or Vienna, sweet Vienna.

 

Huffing, Roderich continued down the road, hoping to make his way back home before it got too dark. Putting his slender hands in his pockets to shield them from the cold air, the Austrian walked five blocks before he had to stop as light filled his vision, only to recede moments later as two people tentatively embraced. Roderich watched as the glow from their hearts slowly faded away and left the road dark once more. He snorted, whirling about and walking briskly away, refusing to watch the spectacle. Everyone in this world was cursed, Roderich swore, to grow up to be eighteen years old, only for the aging process to halt until the day the found they found their soulmate, where their heart would then glow, reactivating the aging process so that the two ‘soulmates’ could die together. Not that one _only_ had one soulmate. Throughout the years and decades and centuries, a person could find multiple soulmates . . if the previous mate had died prematurely, that is. Some had even taken it upon themselves, fearing death, to kill their soulmate as quickly as they could to ensure their ‘immortality’. Others had simply just never met the one they were looking for, or, possibly worse, didn’t have one. The Austrian scoffed as he remembered that someone far older than he is now had once remarked to him about those who believed they were entirely without a soulmate felt ‘happy’ to be alone. Roderich empathized, but could only mentally berate those who thought that way. While one might like being alone, rarely do they fancy being _lonely_.

   

Even those who turned to hermitage had plants and animals to keep them company, Roderich further reasoned, that for someone to want to believe they were completely happy without anyone- was stupid. Everyone has something that drives the loneliness away. Whether it was music, like it was for himself, or a pet, or playing a sport, or food, or any other area that someone can dedicate their life to. A person always has something to love. He nodded to himself. Yes, that made sense. At least, he hoped so. Not that he would ever write his thoughts down, he didn’t need any family or possible future descents to come across it and put it in a museum, like some of his things had.

   

Snorting, Roderich remembered one time he went to a museum, only to find one of his lost violins, and an old favorite of his as well. It had been terrible, no matter how he had tried to prove his ownership, they wouldn’t believe him until he went back home and dug out an old photo of him with it as well as a slip of paper from the maker saying he had given this particular violin to a ‘Roderich Edelstein’ and brought it back. After examining it, the museum had finally given his old violin back to him, gifted to Roderich by Antonio Stradivari himself. At the time, Roderich had wondered if they had been meant to be, even if they were only mates in the platonic sense (not all soulmates are romantic, just most of them are) but Antonio had found his soulmate in Antonia Zambelli after his first wife, Francesca Ferraboschi, died. His heart hardened in sadness as he remembered his passing, as well as many other friends he has had over the years. An ugly look slid on his face as the usual feelings of bitterness he harbored surfaced and took over his thoughts.

 

Roderich’s sneer was a powerful thing, sending any who crossed his path to the other side of the road in fear, wary of offending someone who looked like he was prepared to commit murder. With a grumble, he had to push his way past two soulmates that were making out on a nearby bench, the couple making noises of offense. With a mere glance he was able to tell they were young, the lucky ones to find their soulmate early on, just as they could feel how ancient he was and quickly walked away, careful not to look back in the case one of them incurred the old man’s wrath. Feeling silently powerful, Roderich paused for a moment as a microscopic snowflake fell on his nose, blinking up at the sky as more and more flakes continued to descend, a starry sky falling to the earth. Exhaling, the Austrian flipped his collar up to shield his face from the wind and cold, looking around for a good place to go inside on the small town’s main street.

 

The Austrian hadn’t been in this town for very long, only a few weeks at most. Still trying to find his way around, Roderich bumped into a lamppost, sent flat on his back and a hand on his aching forehead from where he had impacted against the iron. Growling, he forced his way onto his feet, swaying a little, the wine from earlier still affecting him. Disgruntled, he staggered into a bar, sitting himself down and ordering a beer. Glancing around, Roderich couldn’t help but roll his eyes as a woman came in with her phone and looked around the bar, obviously using the popular ‘Soulfindr’ app, an app that matches personality traits and other attributes, trying to help people find their ‘other half’. Reportedly at least ‘semi-successful’, most found it better than . . nothing. At times, Roderich had almost nearly downloaded . . uploaded? He never remembered the lingo these days- the app that was the current fad. Drinking the dark beer, the man discarded the idea after a moment, not finding the headache of technology worth it. While some his age were able to . . more quickly adapt, Roderich always seemed to be left in the dust like those who found their soulmate and were able to age and eventually develop a debilitating disease like alzheimer's, and other diseases that are typically more age-reliant. Giving up on trying to drink himself into a stupor, Roderich flicked through the small menu before gesturing the bartender over.

 

“I’ll just take a corndog.” The old man attending the bar nodded, getting him his food, as well as another beer. Sliding over the money, Roderich ate the obviously store-bought food tiredly, blandly chewing through the meat. Back to having just a beer, Roderich’s eyes drifted over to the television, watching the football game (not the American-football type) unfold. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as a player milked an injury, when it looked like the one guy had barely even brushed the supposedly injured party. The Austrian remembered the good old days, when knights would charge at each other on horseback while wearing heavy but beautiful armor. Typically Roderich hadn’t participated in those events however, seeing as he was- is -on the shorter side of the spectrum and has always been . . dainty, for a lack of better wording. Slim hands and a thin, pale body, Roderich was more apt to be mistaken for a woman than the man he is. Though his delicate frame had saved him on more than one occasion, with all the times he has needed to disguise himself as a woman to get away from someone. A small part of Roderich sobered as he remembered some of the things he had lived through.

 

The black plague was devastating, he had lost much of his family during that time, as well as in other plagues and wars. While he hadn’t had a large part in World War I (he had been in the far reaches of Canada at that time, living as a teacher in a small town), he had been in Europe when World War II barreled in. The moment Germany had invaded Austria to the cheering crowds and easy acceptance of the Austrian people, Roderich had left as quickly as he could, not wanting to see the great conflict that erupted shortly afterwards. He had left right on time, being able to avoid the hell that erupted across the globe, taking refuge with cousins in Switzerland. Helping transfer Jews into the neutral country, Roderich had done what he could to help in the war effort, while avoiding the fighting himself. He was tired of fighting wars for people who wouldn’t fight for them self.

 

Another bite of corndog and it was finished, Roderich savoring the fries. Not too salty or fake with some ketchup, they were heaven in his starving mouth, and a hell of a lot better than the hotdog. Sighing once finished, he got up from his stool and walked back out into the cold night air. Lightly shivering at the difference in temperature, Roderich took a breath before continuing down the street and to the large pine tree all lit up in the middle of the town square. Quietly under his breath, Roderich began singing.

 

“ _‘Tis the season to be jolly . . . but how can I be, when I have nobody?’_ ” He continued singing the song, not a single caroler around the tree paying attention to him in his black coat in the black night, all proceeding along and about their own business. Avoiding catching anyone’s attention, the over one-thousand year old man crept away onto a dark side street, steadily making his way home, his steps more sure as he sobered in the chill night air. It was eerie, how his singing seemed to echo off the brick walls, though it didn’t bother the ancient one very much. He had known scarier. Roderich traced a scar that went across the back of his hand, cut by a dagger when someone had attempted to assassinate him during Maria Theresa’s reign. Three scars from bullets on Roderich’s torso came from the world wars in the nineteen hundreds. Two more old bullet wounds rested on his hip from the Napoleonic Wars in the eighteen hundreds. Another scar cut down his back, a reminder of what happened when you disobeyed a captain out at sea in the seventeen hundreds. A slash ran horizontally along the left side of his ribs, left by a Spanish rapier in the sixteen hundreds. A scattering of burns across the back of his shoulders from when his house had been burnt to the ground in the fifteen hundreds. The puckering of skin where an arrow had gone through his arm in the fourteen hundreds. A bite from a wolf on his ankle from the thirteen hundreds, and a horse bite on his thigh from the twelve hundreds. The scar on the side of his neck from raiders in the eleven hundreds. A cut on his scalp from falling off the table from even earlier- when he was a child, sometime in the time _before_ . Roderich thought that might be in the year nine-hundred seventy-six, the date his home country of Austria formed, though it was known as _Ostarrîchi_ then. Of course, there were forever the calluses on his hands from hard work, horses, and playing instruments throughout his long years of living. However, those were only the scars that showed on the surface, not the ones that lurked beneath.

 

Roderich could no longer be alone in the dark and silence, the two combined together too oppressive on his mind. He remembered being locked in a dark cell, devoid of sound . . when he had refused to confess to the Spanish Inquisition . . how they would dislocate his shoulders . . the left one still liked to pop out from time to time. Nowadays he could at least handle fire, when there was time after his home had burned down that he refused to be within five feet of the flames, wincing at every pop and crackle that came from the logs as they blackened and turned to ash. His most oppressive fear was fish. Dead eyes on a dead, emotionless face, too alike to the eyes of dead men for Roderich and combined heavily with his fear of the open ocean. Being on the water he could tolerate to a certain degree, and he could swim, but rarely did he swim in water that wasn’t a man-made pool or some type of hot tub. Then, his final fear, (outside of rats, he still didn’t like them since the black plague) was that of blood. Not that he really ‘feared’ it. He just had few good memories that involved that vital life-source. The wars, the injuries, the murders, suicides, and the assassinations, all left scenes soaked red with blood. Blood brought back too many memories. All the times he had bled, for himself and for country, never a ‘thank you for your service’ uttered as he passed through time, few noticing him. As did his one soulmate leave this world, red with blood.

 

Roderich could still remember her so clearly, his Elizaveta, the one soulmate he had found in his life, only to lose her so early on. He met her in the eighteen hundreds, when he was about eight hundred years old. From the moment he saw her, his heart had leapt, shining so brightly for her, as her heart in turn did for his. Roderich remembered how their fingertips had tentatively brushed against each other and their light extinguished so his amethyst eyes could meet her emerald ones. Her long dirty-blonde hair always appeared windswept, like she had been riding a great charger across the hills of Austria and Elizaveta was forever fierce, a Valkyrie ready to ride into battle. She had been his jewel, his inspiration, his muse, and the to-be-mother of their child after five years of being married . . He could recall her beautiful wedding dress with intricate embroidery of flowers and colors, as were her Hungarian customs. Roderich still had the three handkerchiefs she had made for him, though they were a little clumsily put together. A smile quirked his lips sadly. Elizaveta had never been much of a homemaker, that had been his job. He would cook and clean and write his music before selling it. She was a fighter, going out and protesting for women’s rights and peace and equality and anything else one could fight for to make the world a better place. Roderich remembered the day she came home, beaming with the news that they were going to have a _baby_ , that they were going to be _parents_. Then . . then nine months later, Elizaveta’s water had broke. Roderich had rushed her to the hospital, leaving her in the hands of nurses and doctors. Even now he could recall the details clearly . . the wooden floorboards as he paced their length for five hours, only for the nurse to come back, blood on her apron. The nurse’s look had left him stricken. Roderich remembered how his footsteps had thundered down the hall, echoing as he burst into Elizaveta’s room. The blood . . there was far too much blood . . and his wife and child were both dead. He made sure there tombstones were made of granite- hardy and tough, like his wife, and in no way red like blood or white marble, echoing the pallor of death and bone.

 

White steam rose from his mouth, billowing up like smoke before disappearing into the night sky. It hadn’t been long after Elizaveta’s death that Roderich had regressed back into his eighteen year old body, preparing him for his next soulmate, whoever they were to be. The longest case of having a soulmate and still being able to return to eighteen- to be cursed to eighteen- was twelve years. None had surpassed that yet, and those whose soulmate had died fifteen, twenty, however many years after that, were forced to endure a life where they aged, alone and with little to no hope of finding someone to be by their side for the rest of their days. Those who tried to find someone to be with, if it wasn’t their soulmate, usually found themselves cursed with bad luck. The Austrian remembered the few times he had met a married couple that weren’t soulmates, nearly all of them without children. It seemed that biology liked to interfere, making pregnancy and having a child near impossible for couples that weren't soulmates. There were even cases of, upon the moment of marriage, the couple growing ill, the sickness only letting up when they moved away from each other. Roderich wasn’t sure if it was a manifestation of guilt or the souls of the couple rejecting each other, but even he hadn’t taken the risk of starting a romantic relationship with someone who wasn’t his soulmate.

 

Roderich startled a little as he felt something rub up against his leg. Looking down, a relieved smile lit up his face as he saw a small black and white cat glance up at him and mew, looking for food. He knelt down, gently petting its head. Scientists said that animals did not have soulmates, but Roderich knew the truth. He himself had seen their hearts glow. It wasn’t for very long, nor very bright, but they still did. Animals just had a lot _more_ soulmates. He had once owned a cat that had three different soulmates, all at the same time. So, with the number of potential matches animals had, they aged more quickly than humans did, usually. At least, more quickly than humans that found their soulmates right away. Humming to himself, Roderich carefully picked up the cat and held it close to himself as he went further down the street. Turning the corner, he winced as bright lights accosted his eyes, squinting to make out the sign. _‘Come see the 500 year old woman! Hear her many tales!’_ Roderich snorted. There was always a call for the oldest members of society to come forth and tell about history and set the records straight, if possible. Translate old scriptures and answer the questions of what happened before, during, and after. Roderich had gone into a museum a few times to clear up any and all misunderstandings he could answer, but for the most part, he left things well enough alone. It does not do to dwell too much on the past, or society may never move onto the future. _‘Then again . .,’_ Roderich considered it, _‘. . learn from the past, or we are doomed to repeat it._ ’ He himself had even enrolled himself in high school and college, making sure to attend either type of schooling every few decades or so to ensure his knowledge was up-to-date. Carefully Roderich set the cat down, unsurprised as it made its way towards a house with bright Christmas lights. Shivering, Roderich looked around, deciding on a bar that looked like a log cabin.

 

 _The Smiling Moose_ it was called, and the inside was cozy with antique hunting gear and other rustic artifacts on the wall, such as snowshoes, traps, and even an old snowmobile. In the far back were clear garage doors, ideal for the summer months when the restaurant could open up the large doors and let in the cool breeze and have the patio be open to the rest of the main room. The light inside was gentle and warm, making one feel at home. Looking around the quiet bar, he nodded to the hostess and silently gestured to the fireplace when she asked where he would like to be seated. He followed her, gladly taking a menu and ordering some black coffee to be brought over. When she finally left, Roderich silently turned to the roaring fire, holding his hands up to the flames to warm them. Blankly gazing into the mysterious element, Roderich absently hummed Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2 by Chopin, a dear favorite of his. Humming the beautiful melody, he barely paid attention when the waitress came. Absently he heard her start talking as she set his coffee down on the wooden table.

 

“Good evening, sir. What may I get you to eat? I have quite a few specials and appetizers to choose from.” Quickly scanning through the menu, Roderich nodded in a satisfied fashion as he found a stroganoff.

 

“I’ll take your cream of mushroom and beef stroganoff, and that will be all, thank you.” He gave the waitress a minute smile, handing her the menu so that she may hurry off. Within seconds he was alone once more, left to brood as he stared into the flames, as if searching for answers. Across the bar a sudden ruckus broke out as a herd of boys, not men, _boys_ came in. Roderich’s eyes narrowing in annoyance, he took in their varsity jackets. _High schoolers_. Already he felt a headache come upon him as their obnoxious cheers and laughter broke through the air. Resolving to ignore them, Roderich sipped his coffee, quietly taking his meal and eating it in his corner.

 

“Franny, shut up and listen to the awesome me for a second, okay? I am telling you, Alfred and Ivan are _not_ soulmates. I mean, they hate each other’s guts!” A particularly obnoxious boy spoke up, his white hair and red eyes glinting in the light. ‘Franny’ swept his long blonde hair to the side as he retorted at the albino.

 

“S’il vous plait, that is UST!” At his friends’ questioning looks, Francis rolled his eyes and exclaimed, “Unresolved sexual tension! With those two, you could cut it with a butter knife . . or a condom-covered _cock_. Most likely Ivan’s.”  Francis giggled perversely, hiding his mouth behind a hand while he snickered and his friends groaned.

 

The albino groaned. “Francis, you are being so unawesome. Can we talk about my awesome birthday party plans instead of those two losers?”

 

“Tais-toi, Gilbert!” Francis shot back at him, huffing.

 

“Mi amigo . . .,” A brown-haired boy next to them sighed, “you need help. But I do agree that the two of them together would be _muy lindo_. Just imagine if they could have babies! Golden hair, blue or purple eyes . . ” The Spanish boy squealed happily as his hands went to his cheeks as he started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish about adorable little babies and how he . . it took Roderich a moment to translate. About how he would love to take care of them? It was something to that effect. The Austrian shoved another spoonful into his mouth, purposefully avoiding looking at them.

 

“Antonio, you’re rambling again.” Francis chuckled. “We all know you’re eager to have kids, I just hope your soulmate feels the same way.”

 

“Yo tambien, but I was also thinking about what I’m going to do after college.” Antonio beamed.

 

“Oh? And what’s that, bro-ha? Be a teacher?” Gilbert questioned his friend while he shoveled a handful of fries into his mouth, Francis smacking the back of his head for talking with his mouth full. “OW!”

 

The Spaniard hummed thoughtfully, perching his chin on his hand. “Maybe! Or I could run a daycare, or be a pediatrician! Or anything else along those lines. I just know I want to work with kids!” Roderich hid his smile at Antonio’s aspirations, amused at his eagerness and finding the fact he wanted to work with children heart-warming. Finishing his meal, he paid the waitress before leisurely walking for the door. Going past the group, Gilbert playfully shoved Antonio, accidentally knocking him into Roderich. A smile on his face, Antonio turned to look at the person he had bumped into to apologize, when their eyes met.

 

For a second, it became a century. Purple eyes dove into green and washed over Antonio. Roderich became hyper-sensitive to the hot spot on his shoulder from where Antonio had fallen into him. Everything snapped into a sharper focus, cutting into Roderich with a clarity he had known of only once before. With Elizaveta. He . . he had thought he would be alone. Roderich had sworn to himself so many times he was cursed. That he would wander for eons more before he found his one, his only, his song, his _mate_ that would perhaps make him complete. Make it so he wasn’t fractured into a thousand pieces on the inside. Roderich processed all of this in less than a second, his body yearning to meet with Antonio’s, to meld together and be one complete person. How he wanted to fight for that one moment, claim Antonio as his. Take the boy away from his friends and keep him by his side forever, for the forever Roderich had known and endured. Inhaling, the smell of salt washed over him, yet it was clean. Like a day in the middle of the sea, the wind blowing a fresh breeze to wash over you and cleanse your soul. He wanted to know every inch of Antonio, his golden skin, unblemished by freckles and so smooth that he saw no scars, nothing that took away from his Adonis-like perfection. Antonio’s brown hair that hung in sweet, loose curls that hung about him and bobbed in an invisible wind only Antonio knew about. Those green eyes that Roderich still hadn’t looked away from this entire time, the whole century of a single second that had caught them more surely than a fisherman’s net.

 

Roderich gasped as his chest grew warm and his soul shot out to entwine around Antonio, caressing him as the shear strength of Roderich’s soul caused the air to rumble and make everything start shaking. Plates and silverware rattled as waves of light curled out from the two men, winds gusting out from them to hurl themselves against the walls and the patrons within the bar. Everyone in the bar cried out as a piercing light shot out from the two, covering their eyes and falling to the floor as the ground shook. Roderich peered through the strands of his soul to look at Antonio, marveling over him. So this was to be his soulmate. Carefully he parted the strands of his very essence to come closer to Antonio when he felt Antonio’s own soul brush against his. Smaller and much more delicate, Roderich smiled. It almost reminded him of Elizaveta’s. A young soul who had so much potential ahead of him. In that moment, Roderich’s heart went cold. He, who had lived a thousand years was matched with someone who had barely even begun to _live_. A part of Roderich wanted to scream and rage at the unfairness of it all, but he held back, instead pushing onwards to touch the tips of his fingers to Antonio’s hand. Brushing across the back of the tan skin, the light extinguished in a flash, Roderich yanking it back inside of his soul. With empty eyes he watched as Antonio fell to the ground, passed out from Roderich’s own immense power. A quick glance around at the bar and he saw that none were on their feet. It was like time itself had stopped. One single glance back at Antonio to see his eyes start to blink open, and Roderich made his choice. He turned and left. He would not force this boy to be his soulmate. He would leave him to accomplish his dreams. Silently the door shut behind him and Roderich slid through the shadows, doing one of the things he did best. He disappeared.

 

Behind him he could hear the faintest yelling of ‘come back!’, but he would not. This was not his fate. Roderich refused to tie Antonio down to his side, the side of a lonely, broken old man with the body of an eighteen year old. A man who crept through the ages like oil through the cracks in the ground, pushing through at times only to seep back down, hidden from the bright world above. Sighing, the Austrian made his way quietly back to his house, the small black and white cat from before joining him. It followed him all the way, even coming inside with him. So it hadn’t had a home like it had lead him to believe. Roderich wasn’t surprised. Tiredly taking off his coat, he hung it up on the coat rack, his scarf, gloves, and boots joining being put away where they couldn’t leave wet prints on his floors. Taking a rag, Roderich gingerly wiped off the cat’s paws, holding it as he made the short walk to his piano room. Shifting the glasses on his face, he took off the wire frames and set them on the shelf of the piano before sitting down on the bench. Reverently he lifted the lid and gently blew across the keys to clear them of dust. The cat jumped up on the bench beside him, meowing at the musician. Absently Roderich pet its head before laying his fingers on the keys. For five long minutes, he stayed in that position. Then, he pressed down, letting the tune come to him. Beginning softly, it danced across the keys, becoming darker and more convoluted as Roderich played, crescendoing before falling into a sadness. An unbreakable sadness that would shatter the hearts of all who heard this song. A song that mourned a beautiful, cruel world, set out to break the hearts of all that lived in it, finally shattering them all in the end. No light was left. If there was ever any light to begin with. Maybe it was all just a lie, in the end.

 

A lie people fought for. Died for. Roderich was still conflicted. Should he fight for it? Or should he see the truth? Give up, roll over, _die_ . Don’t find that accursed light that will set you free from this horrible existence. Turn away from the chances given, just GIVE UP, ROLL OVER, AND DIE. But no, don’t. Seek the light. Roderich thundered his fingers across the keys, fighting his darkness. Was he irredeemable? But did he not deserve happiness in this cruel world? Did he not fight for those who asked him to? Had he not sacrificed so much already? Were all of his wounds for nothing, was he marked and scarred from the world for nothing? Had he not loved and had his wife and child die for nothing? A resolve grew within Roderich. He had considered moving, leaving this town, but he will not. He will stay right where he is. He will see. He will allow Antonio, his soulmate, his one, his only, _the song that drives him to live,_ **_to find him_ ** . If Antonio really wants to find him, he will, and Roderich will let him, and he will love him with all his heart- if Antonio finds him. A smile grew on his face. If Antonio was anything like Roderich had seen in that boy’s soul- he would find Roderich. There was no doubt in his mind. Antonio would find him. All Roderich had to do, was wait. The song became a siren’s call, Roderich taking a moment to throw open the window, _dashing_ back to slam his fingers down on the keys as he roared out and screamed into the night, letting himself be known. **_HE DOESN’T WANT TO BE ALONE ANYMORE_ **. Someone, anyone, save the lonely, crying boy on the stairs, the one the cat doesn’t even pause for. The one the ages had passed by and left for dead, a leaf floating aimlessly on the wind, or a boat lost at sea with no lighthouse in sight. Someone, see him. Save him. Before he is lost forever.

 


	2. Unseeing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing except the idea.

December 20, 9:34 AM

    Antonio rolled over in his bed, yawning as he blindly reached for his beeping cell phone. Squinting through bleary eyes, he was able to make out Francis’s name flashing across his screen. Another yawn made his jaw creak as he swiped the icon to accept the call.

 

    “Hola, Franny.” Antonio held back a yawn as his friend began talking.

 

    _“Bonjour, mon ami. I’m guessing you just woke up? Who am I kidding, of course you did. I was just calling to let you know Gilbert and I will be at your house in about twenty minutes. You better be out of bed by then, or else I get to have full reign of what clothes you’re going to be trying on today.”_ Francis swore to Antonio, the Spaniard mildly shivering as he forced himself out of bed at the threat. It wasn’t that Francis had a horrible sense of style-  on the contrary, he was the best dressed of their trio. It was the fact that his French friend might force him into something raunchy, or worse, make him try on a billion different outfits before noon. That was taking into consideration that it was already ten o’clock.

 

    “Si, si, I understand, amigo. Adios, I’ll see you in a little bit.” Antonio sighed after Francis said goodbye and hung up, trying to figure out what to wear. In the end, he just threw on a black t-shirt, jeans, and hiking boots. Tramping downstairs, he smirked as he ruffled a hand through his little brother’s hair. “Hola, Joao~. How’s my baby brother?”

 

    Joao growled at him, knocking his hand to the side. “Would you quit it? It takes some of us more than five minutes to get ready, asshat. And I’m not your _baby brother_ , there’s only one year between us!” Antonio laughed.

 

    “Si, but you’ll always be the little baby of the family!” The Spaniard beamed at his younger brother, easily avoiding a swipe. Grabbing a donut, he pecked his madre on the cheek. “I’ll be back by tonight, lo prometo.” She gave him a stern look, brandishing her spatula.

 

    “Antonio, you better keep out of trouble. I know how you can get with those two friends of yours, and I don’t want to have to pay for your bail,” Edelira warned her son, “ _again_.” Antonio gulped, ducking his head.

 

    “It was an accident . . .” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His mother raised an eyebrow skeptically.

 

    “How is painting graffiti on the statue in front of your school accidental?” Edelira countered dryly. Antonio flushed, spluttering.

 

“M-madre, I- Gilbert- the statue is of a horse that looks more like _donkey_ that’s making a _troll-face_!” Edelira hid a laugh behind a stern expression.

 

“Regardless, _no trouble_ . Or else you are going to be grounded until the end of your days, boy.” Antonio gave a frightened nod, quick grabbing some food as he saw Francis’s car pull in their driveway.   
  
    “I’ve got to go. Adios madre, hermano~.” Joao scowled, flipping him off. Edelira smacked him for it with the wooden spoon she was holding, waving goodbye.

 

“Have a good time, Antonio! Feel free to invite your friends over for dinner! And I’m sorry Joao and I might not make it to your game tonight, but we couldn’t schedule any other time at the clinic to check out his flu, but good luck! Maybe the game will be on cable at the clinic!” Antonio turned around, running backwards.

 

“That’s fine, but we’ll be out late tonight madre, don’t expect us back for dinner, si?! Bye madre, Joao, I hope the appointment goes well!” Edelira nodded in understanding, waving goodbye through the window as Antonio slipped into the back seat of Francis’s car. Gilbert already in the front seat with Franny, his two friends grinned back at him. “Hola, amigos~!”

 

“Bonjour~!”

 

“Guten morgen, Toni!” Beaming, Antonio hopped in the back seat of the silver BMW, buckling in.

 

“Where are we going first, mis amigos?” Gilbert and Francis looked at each other before Francis decided.

 

“To the museum, they have a new exhibit on the oldest people without a soulmate and their stories. An interesting topic, oui? _Then_ , we’re going to the mall, from there-”

 

“WE DO WHATEVER WE WANT, MOTHER FUCKERS!! Kesesesesesese~.” Francis scowled at Gilbert for interrupting him.

 

“ _Non_ , after that, we go to the game we’re _supposed_ to be playing in.” Gilbert waved Francis off.

 

“The team will be as awesome as always, don’t worry Franny. You of course will be our oh-so-great setter, Antonio our amazing outside hitter, and me, the AWESOME LIBERO.” The albino boy continued rambling on and on about his ‘awesomeness’ and how their team was going to be ‘epic’ when they played the opposing team tonight. Antonio and Francis rolled their eyes at Gilbert.

 

“Si, si, we get that you are awesome. Now get out of the car, we’re at the museum.” Gilbert blinked.

 

“Wait, already?”

 

“Oui, Gilbert.” Francis chuckled at the bemused expression on the albino’s face. “You talked about all of the plays we would make the entire half hour drive to the museum. I think we get it, mon ami.” Gilbert waved him off.

 

“Ja, I was just making sure you two know what you’re doing tonight.” All three hopped out of the car, continuing to chat as they got inside and paid for their tickets. “So, what else do we wanna check out besides the soulmate exhibit? Because I really want to see those awesome suits of armor and swords knights used to have.” Francis thought about it for a moment.

 

“Ideally, I would love to check out their paintings, especially the _nudes_ , honhonhon~.” The Frenchman twirled his imaginary mustache, giving the other two saucy winks, the three lightly pushing each other around. Francis glanced at Antonio inquisitively. “And what about you, mon ami? What else do you want to see?”

 

“I just came here for the soulmate exhibit, so I’m good with just seeing that, amigos.” Antonio responded easily, brushing a carefree hand through his curls, only for Gil to start laughing at him. “Que?”

 

“You-,” Gilbert snorted, gasping out, “you did the _thing_!” Antonio looked between Gilbert Francis as the blonde also joined in.

 

“You one hundred-percent _did!!_ You totally just did the curl thing all the girls _and_ guys melt over at school.” Antonio gave them a befuddled look, uncomprehending. Curl thing? Hair? Hand? Melting people? What? Shrugging mentally, Antonio sighed, leaving his friends behind as he went up to the gallery with the exhibit, stopping a little when he sees the pictures and paintings of different people through the ages, though they’re all done in a series, where there will be one woman in an oil painting, then in an old black and white photo, and onwards, a timestamp on each picture revealing she’s currently seven hundred years old.

 

“It’s always so amazing . . how long some of these people have lived,” Francis spoke in an awed whisper, “and how romantic, all that time and then finally, after those long years of searching, they find their _one~!_ ” The Frenchman quietly squealed over the romance of it all, rubbing his cheeks in excitement while Gilbert rolled his eyes and made gagging noises behind his back.

 

“No thank you, I would want my soulmate to at least be _somewhat_ close to my age. Otherwise, what the hell would we talk about? How to program their phone?” Gilbert scoffed, shaking his head. The Prussian continued speaking a little quieter, “Besides . . I already have enough trouble on my own, I don’t need their emotional baggage.” Antonio barely paid attention to their conversation, instead continuing to walk through the different aisles of the exhibit, gazing at the numerous objects and pictures. The Spanish boy paused the moment his eyes landed on a rough sketch from the fifteenth century of a young man with short, hair and slightly wavy bangs. He was very beautiful, with thin, fine features and a beauty mark under the left corner of his lips, his sharp eyes caught in spectacular detail in charcoal. Looking for a name, Antonio frowned when it simply said ‘unknown man, has been seen throughout the centuries since’. Sighing, he continued on through the exhibit with his friends, taking in the history of their world.

 

After an hour or so, they decided to leave the museum and go to the mall, the three of them piling back into Francis’s car. Thankfully the mall was close by, meaning it wasn’t long before they were strolling through the maze of shops and checking out the usual stores they liked to go in such as Ambercromie&Hitch, McHallistor, and Cold Title. In Eternity42, both Gilbert and Antonio groaned as Francis put them in outfit after outfit.

 

“I know you want to be a fashion designer, but Francis, we’ve tried on twenty outfits today _already_. Give us a break, please?” Antonio groaned, sitting down on a chair outside the changing rooms heavily, the stiff leather jacket creaking in protest to the movement. Gilbert groaned in agreement, flopping pathetically on Antonio, with there being only two seats and Francis having the tendency to pinch anybody who sat on him. The whine of air escaped from Antonio like the air from a balloon, the Spanish boy wheezing at his friend’s solid weight. The albino smacked him.

 

“I’m not that heavy, shut up.” Francis chuckled at them.

 

“Very well, mes amis~. We need to eat and then get to the school for the game anyways.” Francis got up and flounced his way over to the exit. “I’ll be at the food court, slowpokes~.” Gilbert and Antonio looked at each other while their friend left and rolled their eyes in exasperation as they grumbled, going back into their changing rooms to change back into their street clothes. Both of them buying a few things, it didn’t take long before they caught up to Francis eating some Chinese food.

 

“You could have waited, bro-ha.” Gilbert scowled. Francis gestured to the other bowls around him.

 

“I ordered your favorites, don’t worry.” Smiling, Antonio sat down and just happily dug in, starving since his scant breakfast this morning. It was a moment or two before Gilbert was able to stop pouting to join them, the three boys going double-time once the realized that their match was going to be starting within two hours, and they had to be at the school within the hour. Running to the car, the Bad Touch Trio made it within forty-five minutes and were already changed and doing warmups in the gym. The next few hours flew by in a flash for Antonio, going through the motions in a sort of autopilot, going through exercises while the other team arrived and began doing the same. It was a series of serves, hits, and volleys that seemed to go on forever in Antonio’s mind, but he couldn’t help it. There just seemed to be something else on his mind . . .

 

Antonio absently sent the ball back over the net as he thought about it, accidentally scoring a point. The boy really wished he could go outside into the silent snow to think about it, wandering the streets and being surrounded by the shades of golden light and darkened shadow around him . . an unusual desire on his part, but there was something about that internal image that drew Antonio in. He needed to get out and wander and find whatever his mind was searching for, but he wasn’t sure what that thing was. Maybe food? A quiet corner? Food did sound good, but maybe . . . Antonio shook his head, lunging forward as he saw the ball fly towards him, hitting it over to the server so that he could set up the next hit for someone else. This really was bothering the Spaniard. He knew there was something he had to do, but what? Every so often he had always gotten these feelings, ever since he was born.

 

Antonio remembered that one time from when he was younger, one of his earliest memories of these . . ‘urges’. He and his father had been playing with sparklers when he remembers dropping it on the ground all of a sudden, waves of fear overtaking him at the thought of _fire_ , unable to go near any flame as a small child. Thankfully he had outgrown that fear quickly, but he still had a great respect for the mysterious substance. Thinking back on it, Antonio could still recall the odd feeling of phantom flames around him, falling down on him . . but he’s never been in a house fire, or anything like that at all. Taking a rotation on the bench, the Spaniard proceeded to silently contemplate some more, thinking about when he started school, and how eager he had been, searching for someone, expecting someone, seeing the teacher and realizing- it wasn’t the someone he had been looking for. Then, how his heart leapt every time he heard classical music. Particularly piano or violin music. His mother still tells the story of how she went shopping with him once as little more than a toddler only for him to have wandered off and was found hours later in a music store, asleep on the floor and cuddling a violin to himself. When they woke him up, they soon realized that they should have taken the instrument away beforehand, since Antonio threw a tantrum that rivaled any of his ones before, and he only stopped when his father came running in with a toy one instead. Immediately the toddler had clung to it, and Antonio had refused to let go of the plush purple toy for days. It still even has a proud spot on his bed after all of the years he has had it, and he now has a plush piano to go with it (both he continues to cuddle while asleep).

 

Finally the end of the game came after what felt what felt like at least a thousand years for Antonio, Gilbert clapping him on the back before hugging him and screaming in his ear, “WE WON! WE WON! WE WON! SUCK IT LOSERS!!!” (Francis smacked him for that.) Antonio laughed cheerfully, though neither of his friends missed how it sounded a little hollow.

 

“Antonio . . are you alright, mon ami?”

 

“Si, I’m fine, why?” Antonio blinked at them innocently, flinching back a little when Gilbert waved a finger under his nose.

 

“Don’t try to hide it bro-ha, you’re in one of your ‘moods’. Come on, let’s go get some awesome supper to eat, maybe use our IDs to get some booze, then maybe find a good lay?” Gilbert coaxed Antonio into the locker room as he tried to convince his friend to come with.

 

“Oui, I think that is a marvelous idea, Gilbert- we could eat at that new place downtown and see if it has anything good to eat. What was it called again? The . . the . . “

 

“The Smiling Moose?”

 

“Oui, merci, Gilbert.”

 

“Anytime, Franny. I’ll always be awesomely there for you.” Gilbert winked mock-saucily at their French friend, the three of them finishing changing, each slipping on their thicker varsity jackets to combat the cold night air.

 

“Honhonhon, but of course, Gilbert~! How else would I get my shopping done without you there to carry the bags?” The Prussian rolled his eyes, then stuck his tongue out at the blonde.

 

“I am not your slave.”

 

“Oui, you are.”

 

“Nein, I’m not.”

 

“Oui.”

 

“Nein.”

 

“Oui.”

 

“ _Nein_.”

 

“ _Oui_.”

 

“ _NE-_ ”

 

“Would you two stop it, por favor? You are both giving me a headache from your fighting,” Antonio groaned out as they got into the car and began driving downtown, the two up front grumbling before falling quiet for the rest of the drive. It only taking about five minutes before Francis was able to park the car right outside the entrance of the cabin-like building, Antonio eagerly hopped out, but then checked himself. Why was he so eager? It wasn’t like he was looking for someone, both of his best friends were already with him. Pasting a beaming smile on his face, Antonio laughed when Francis began whining about the cold.

 

“This weather is horrible, I mean, honestly! It is like the north pole!” Francis complained to them as he shuffled inside the homey-looking building, Gilbert and Antonio right behind him. Gilbert laughed at him.

 

“It isn’t that bad.”

 

“Pfft, you are used to the cold, Frosty. Whereas I am like a delicate rose, unable to stand the the beginnings of frost on my petals.” Francis dramatically pouted at their Germanic friend before chuckling and taking a seat near the bar with his friends.

 

Looking around, the bar was nearly empty, with only themselves and maybe seven other people in the building, each in their own section quietly enjoying their food. His eyes wandering, the Spanish boy’s gaze stopped to linger on the hunched figure by the fireplace. Unable to tell if they were male or female, the high school student wondered if they were alright, taking in the tense posture of the person. Antonio came back to himself when Gilbert clapped him on the back.

 

“So, what do you want to eat? It’s on Francis, don’t worry.” Antonio laughed.

 

“In that case-”

 

“Hey! Do not think you can order the most expensive thing,” Francis complained, “Or expect me to buy you anything you want. I merely offered to pay for your food, and you can pay me back if you want to-”

 

“Shh, everybody knows how generous you are Franny, don’t worry,” Gilbert teased him, before turning back to the impatient waitress that had just come up to their table. “To drink, we’ll all start with waters. For food, I’ll have a hamburger and waffle fries.” She wrote that down, turning to Francis.

 

“Could I have your waffles? I know it is late,” Francis said in a soft and apologetic voice, his eyes becoming misty and tired, “but I would love some of your waffles. They’re always my favorite when I come here.” For good measure, the Frenchman gave a light fluttering of his eyelashes, blinking up at her, the waitress looking at him with a stunned look on her face.

 

“I- I, yes, of course,” She replied dazedly, writing it down while Gilbert snickered at her silently, the young woman then finally getting to Antonio.

 

“I’ll just have your ham sandwich, gracias,” Antonio beamed up at the blonde woman, her dark skin flushing as he looked at her with his bright green eyes. Getting his order, she stumbled away, starstruck from the three attractive teens in her section. Gilbert laughed.

 

“Did you see her face? It’s like she’d never seen an attractive guy before.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Think I should try for her?” Francis shook his head.

 

“Non, I would not. Didn’t you see? She had on an engagement ring.” Gilbert swore under his breath.

 

“Fuck. All the pretty ones are taken.”

 

“Not me~.” Francis flirtatiously tossed his hair, giving Gilbert a smouldering look before all three of them began laughing, only quieting when their waitress, ‘Bambi’ came back. Thanking her, the three talked as they ate, discussing the game, what they were planning on doing for break, and whether or not any of them should try to bang someone while they were on winter vacation since all three were planning on going down to Florida, and finally, they talked about who they thought could be soulmates.

 

“Franny, shut up and listen to the awesome me for a second, okay? I am telling you, Alfred and Ivan are _not_ soulmates. I mean, they hate each other’s guts!”

 

“S’il vous plait, that is UST!” At his friends’ stupid, uncomprehending looks, Francis rolled his eyes and exclaimed, “Unresolved sexual tension! With those two, you could cut it with a butter knife . . or a condom-covered _cock_. Most likely Ivan’s.”  Francis giggled pervertedly, hiding his mouth behind a hand while he snickered and his friends groaned.

 

“Francis, you are being so unawesome. Can we talk about my awesome birthday party plans instead of those two losers?” Gilbert grumbled, “Since my birthday is going to be during winter break.”

 

“Tais-toi, Gilbert!” Francis shot back at him, huffing.

 

“Mi amigo . . .,” Antonio sighed, “you need help. But I do agree that the two of them together would be _muy lindo_. Just imagine if they could have babies! Golden hair, blue or purple eyes . . ” The Spanish boy squealed happily as his hands went to his cheeks as he started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish about adorable little babies and how he would love to take care of them, only shutting up when Gilbert smacked him with a French Fry.

 

“Antonio, you’re rambling again.” Francis chuckled. “We all know you’re eager to have kids, I just hope your soulmate feels the same way.”

 

“Yo tambien, but I was also thinking about what I’m going to do after college.” Antonio beamed.

 

“Oh? And what’s that, bro-ha? Be a teacher?” Gilbert questioned his friend while he shoveled a handful of fries into his mouth, Francis smacking the back of his head for talking with his mouth full. “OW!”

 

The Spaniard hummed thoughtfully, perching his chin on his hand. “Maybe! Or I could run a daycare, or be a pediatrician! Or anything else along those lines. I just know I want to work with kids!”

 

“Awww, how cute,” Gilbert cooed, Antonio lightly shoving him in response.

 

Gilbert playfully shoved Antonio back, accidentally knocking him into a passing customer. A smile on his face, Antonio turned to look at the person he had bumped into to apologize, when their eyes met. Then, the Spaniard was drowning. Drowning in violet and silver and gold.

 

He didn’t know where he ended and the _Other_ began, Antonio’s heart hammering as he tried to breath through the light that surrounded them that seemed to shake the entire world, tables and silverware rattling as patrons fell off of their chairs and to the floor, everyone trying to crawl away from the cataclysmically strong soul of what could only be Antonio’s soulmate. The boy tried to fight his way through the light  as it caressed him, warming his own, smaller soul like an evening at a bonfire. But this was no bonfire. It was like a wildfire and tsunami had come together as one force, Antonio screaming as it burnt and froze him at the same time, becoming disoriented and he wasn’t even sure which way was _up_ anymore. It was like trying to heave himself out of an abyss, an abyss that stared back and swallowed him, yet Antonio . . Antonio wanted more of _this_ . He wanted _ALL_ of this, to tame this divine force that sang for him and called out for him to come and find the treasure that lay at the bottom of a _fathomless_ pit.

 

Pushing forward, Antonio reached and reached, yet it pushed back against him, as if warning him away, the Spaniard flinching as the soul became colder and colder and receded away from him, as if afraid. Curiosity ran through Antonio, his own red and gold soul trying to spear through the silver sea that surrounded him. For an odd moment, Antonio felt like a pirate captain of old, trying to tame the raging seas in search of its treasures. Then, Antonio was a violinist trying to capture the sound of the wind in a single note. Tripping, Antonio was a man dying in the middle of a frozen tundra, then a flightless bird stuck on the edge of the tallest cliff. A writer about to start their greatest masterpiece, a story of one thousand words. Antonio still- he didn’t get what this soul was trying to tell him. He only knew that this soul was afraid. What would a soul so astoundingly amazing and powerful and beautiful have to fear from him? Antonio had to know, so he reached out with his own small soul, trying to reach the center, to grab the other’s hand, never ever expecting to reach the source of this insurmountable, _immovable_ power- when he did.

 

It was like touching the wings of a moth, soft and warm and terribly fragile, as if a passing wind could tear the paper-thin material, the once raging-soul around them gentled before it was yanked away from Antonio, as well as the pale fingers that had just touched his tanned ones. The emptiness that filled Antonio was too much. He was- a captain without a crew. A violinist without a bow. A man in the middle of nowhere without a pack. A bird without wings. An empty book. Antonio was . . nothing. All of the air left him, and he fell backwards, out before he even hit the floor.

 

It was a barely a minute later he came to, Antonio looking up at his two friends who were kneeling by him in the wreck of the bar, a few glasses having been shattered and some napkins and silverware were now on the floor. Looking around, there was no one looking at him with violet eyes, Antonio meeting his friends eyes, the two of them sadly shaking their heads. Antonio’s heart broke out in a frenzied pace. _No- nononononononono_ **_nonONONONONONO!_ ** The Spanish boy leapt to his feet, running out the door and trying to figure out where his _one_ had went, looking for tracks, traces, anything that would help him. Antonio even grabbed passerbys, pleading with them, ‘please, please, have you seen someone with violet eyes?!?!?!’ only to be brushed off and left behind, again and again. Antonio rubbed at his eyes as he ran on, trying to find him- he knew it was a _him_ -and sobbing and choking on tears, tripping on some ice on the sidewalk, trying to force himself to his feet when  two strong sets of arms grabbed him. Weakly he fought, only stopping when Francis forced him to look him in the eyes.

 

“ANTONIO! ANTONIO, STOP! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF AT THIS RATE!!”

 

“JA!! TONI, STOP!!” Antonio swallowed thickly as he eventually looked his friends in the eyes, realizing they were also crying. “You _dumbass!_ What were you thinking, trying to find your soulmate on your own without us in the middle of a fucking winter night??” Gilbert wiped at his red eyes, clearing away his tears. “We were fucking worried, ya know?!?” Antonio looked down, a little ashamed.

 

“I texted your mom, she’s- she’s going to pick us up in fifteen minutes.” Francis gently informed.

 

“I **can’t** ,” Antonio looked up at them from where he sat on the sidewalk, “I- I **need** to find him- can’t you understand that?” They were silent as the nodded solemnly. "Then why did you stop me?!!”

 

“HOW CAN YOU FIND HIM IF YOU KILL YOURSELF IN THE PROCESS OF DOING SO?!!” Francis snapped, Antonio shutting up with a stricken look on his face. Francis inhaled to calm himself. “Look for him in the morning. We have one day to find him before we leave for break, and then we’ll have time to look for him when we come back ten days later. I _promise_ you, Antonio,” Francis stared deeply into Antonio’s eyes, piercing him with his dark blue gaze, “We’ll find him.”

 

“ . . . “ Antonio exhaled, nodding. “Alright. But I’m going out looking for him first thing tomorrow! See . . see you then?” They both rolled their eyes.

 

“ _Duhh_ , bro-ha. Like we’re going to leave you alone until we see who bagged our awesome friend.” Antonio laughed, despite himself.

 

“Obviously.”

 

Never had the time of fifteen minutes feel like it had lasted so long, Antonio just wanting to get home and sleep so he could wake up the next day to find his soulmate. When tomorrow came, Antonio woke up to find both Gilbert and Francis at his door with churros and coffee, Antonio smiling as they all drove back to the _Smiling Moose_ to investigate what they could about Antonio’s soulmate. Unfortunately, they didn’t find out much. The trio knew he was a brown haired man that was pale and slender with violet eyes and had paid cash for his meal. Definitely not much to go on, but it was a start. Venturing through town, they asked anybody they could about the violet-eyed man, few knowing anything. A few said that they had seen a man with that description, but more just gave Antonio a pitying look when they replied that they hadn’t. Far, far too soon, Francis and Gilbert forced Antonio to go home, the boy protesting that they could have searched longer- when Francis gave him a look and pointed out that it was one in the morning. Antonio had sighed in acceptance, reluctantly agreeing to go to bed, but he barely slept, instead haunted by violet eyes.

 

Waking up at a time that-shouldn’t-exist-in-the-morning, Antonio’s mother drove him and his friends to the airport, where they got on their flight and didn’t enjoy their vacation. Sure, they occasionally had fun, but Antonio just wanted to go _home_ and find him, his _Other_. So when the trio finally, finally, FREAKING finally flew back home, Antonio barely stayed in  his house for ten minutes before he was running out the door, praying that his soulmate hadn’t moved away. His hopes were dashed when he didn’t find him that day, or the next. Or the next. Or the next. Or the month after that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, kudos, subscribe, and bookmark, please?


	3. The Voiceless Mermaid and the Unseeing Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea.

February 12, 5:10 PM

 

Antonio laughed with his friends as he left the school building after practice.

 

“Hey Toni, we’re going out for pizza, wanna join us?” Gilbert asked, concerned with how tired and haggard their friend was looking recently. The once-cheerful and sunny Spaniard now had dark circles under his eyes and was the palest he had ever been, looking like a flower that hadn’t seen the sun in ages.

 

“No, no, I already have food, I’m going to go and study at the library. I’ll talk to you guys later.” Antonio smiled weakly at them as he wrapped his scarf tighter around his face, not waiting for a response as he turned around and walked away. Alone, Antonio was left to quietly think.  _ Where is he? Does he truly not want me? That . . . that just doesn’t seem  _ **_right_ ** _. I- I don’t know how I know that. I just  _ **_know_ ** _ that he wants me to look for him. Whoever he is. Why- I- I just- I don’t even know his name, yet I miss him so much. I know  _ **_nothing_ ** _ about him, yet he consumes my every thought. What is he? At this point, I wonder if he’s even human. Maybe he’s an angel, and angel that had to go home to Heaven and leave the poor mortal he ensnared behind. Maybe he’s the opposite, an incubus. A demon meant to drive me mad with want, yet . . I don’t mind. I just want him, to feel and see and drown in that soul that burnt and froze me, leaving me feeling raw and breathless at the end of it all, and yet more  _ **_alive_ ** _ than I’ve ever felt  _ **_before_ ** _. _ Antonio took a deep breath before slamming into a pole, head first. Dazedly he fell backwards, groaning at the pain. Tentatively touching his left eye where most of the pain was located, Antonio hissed at the throb of agony that shot through his skull, pulling his mittened hand away. He cursed, “Damnit.”

 

Standing back up, Antonio grumbled bitterly to himself as he walked on, paying attention this time so that he wouldn’t trip or fall into anything a second time. Turning the corner, Antonio walked slowly to the library and up its stone stairs, stopping in the sheltered entryway to eat his ham sandwich and drink his water before going inside and going to the biology section to do some homework. After an hour of taking notes and doodling absently up and down the pages, Antonio decided a break was in order, so he went over to the children’s section, smiling when he saw there was a little redheaded girl sitting down on a fierce plush dragon the library owned while her brother sat on a plush horse, the two reading a story together. Or at least, as Antonio soon figured out, looking at the pictures together, the two of them too young to read very well yet. 

 

“Hey, you!” Antonio paused when the little girl pointed at him. He pointed at himself dumbly. “Si,  _ you _ . You have books, so that means you can read, right?” Antonio nodded. “So read us a story!”

 

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of your parents to do that?” Antonio looked around curiously, trying to spot an adult nearby. The little girl puffed up her cheeks grumpily.

 

“Mama’s in the  _ adult  _ section. So  _ you _ get the honor of reading to us!”

 

“Honor, huh?” Antonio quirked one of his eyebrows at her, coming closer to sit beside them. “That’s a pretty big word for a little girl to know. You must be pretty smart, si?”

 

“Si!” She replied indignantly. “And I’m not a ‘little girl’, I’m Sicilia! And this is my little brother, Sebastian!” Antonio nodded to the little boy, Sebastian shyly waving back. Looking at them, Antonio introduced himself.

 

“I’m Antonio. What would you like me to read?” Sicilia raced off. Quickly coming back with a beautiful gold, yellow, and orange book with a mermaid on the cover.

 

“This one!” Antonio took the book and opened it up, seeing it was a small compilation of stories.

 

“What would you like me to read?  _ The Tinder box _ ?  _ Little Ida’s Flowers _ ? Or maybe-” Antonio listed as he read what was in the golden book.

 

“ _ The Little Mermaid _ !” Sicilia chimed, Sebastian nodding along eagerly. Antonio hummed thoughtfully, looking at the page number before flipping to the story and checking- it was the original version. He tentatively spoke up.

 

“Are you sure? This version is an older version, and is much sadder than the one Disney made. This story doesn’t really have a happy ending.” The two were both quiet for a moment, looking at each other  before Sicilia nodded.

 

“Read it, please?” Antonio sighed, then did as the two children bid him and read. The boy read of the mermaid princess who saved a human and fell in love with him, saving him and taking him to shore when his ship was destroyed in a storm. He read of how she found a sea witch that traded with the mermaid, giving her legs in return for the mermaid’s voice. How the mermaid now walked, but felt like she was standing on the tips of a thousand blades. How she was given the choice to become a mermaid once more, if she only took the prince’s life, the man she had fallen in love with. How the little mermaid had rather thrown herself overboard, unable to swim and drowning in the waves- only for angels to save her, bringing the little mermaid to live in Heaven, amongst the clouds. Softly uttering the words, “The end.” Antonio looked at the two children to see them both softly crying. 

 

“A-are you two okay??!” Antonio asked, alarmed as he pulled out some Kleenexes and dabbed at their faces with the tissues. Sicilia swallowed her tears long enough she was able to answer.

 

“J-just because it wasn’t the happy ending we wanted and wished for, doesn’t mean it wasn’t a happy ending.” Her lip wobbled as she hugged her little brother, Sebastian flinging his arms around her as Antonio was shocked into silence by her response. 

 

The children blew their noses with the Kleenex, thanking Antonio for reading to them as they looked up and saw their mama waving them over, Antonio left staring after them silently as they left. He glanced back down at the gold book. Maybe he would check it out. Taking it with him back to his study spot, Antonio tried to read more for his biology class, but ended up opening the book of fairy tales instead, tracing the picture of the golden-tailed mermaid and looking at her long hair floating in the waves. Inwardly, he cursed the stupid prince for not recognizing that she was the one who saved him. Flipping through to the other stories, Antonio read most of them before glancing at his watch and realizing the time. The library would soon be closing, and he needed to get home. Grabbing the biology book and the book of fairy tales, Antonio checked them both out and put them in his bag to carry them home, never looking up to see the violet-eyed librarian. Just as the librarian never looked over to see the bright-eyed boy. Antonio left, his heart feeling more tumultuous than the blowing snow outside.

 

Roderich sighed as the last person left the library, barely paying attention as he turned off the computer and checked in the books from the drop box and put them back in place on their shelves. The methodical practice of looking at the spines and slipping them each in their slot soothed the Austrian, Roderich humming softly to himself, the peace of the library filling him. No one was around to judge him or look at him in pity when they realized how old he is. How alone he is. Pulling the cart along behind him, Roderich paused when he had to cross the large center aisle, letting go of the cart to hold his arms like he was holding someone in preparation of a dance, the steps coming to him easily. One-two-three. One-two-three, spinning his partner into a gentle dip, holding them close to keep them safe. Something he hadn’t been able to do for his wife.

 

Standing upright, Roderich grabbed the cart, finishing up shelving the books before putting the cart back where it came from, quietly opening up the back room, though everyone was already gone for the day. Softly he called, “Wolferl?”

 

The quiet patter of feet were his answer, the small black and white cat from that day when he found his soulmate, coming forward to sit at his feet and give him a bored look. Roderich sighed fondly, picking up the little cat and carrying him to the front doors. “I know, I know. It was a longer day than usual, and I’m sorry. But we’re going home now, aren’t we?” Wolferl didn’t even flick an ear at him, instead sniffing the air interestedly. “Wolferl?”

 

Roderich gasped in surprise when his cat bit his scarf with his teeth, jumping out of Roderich’s arms and racing away with his scarf. “Wolferl, come back!” Roderich chased after his cat and scarf, the feline squeezing through the partially opened door, Roderich cursing the fact that the last person hadn’t closed it all of the way, the Austrian fumbling for his keys to quickly lock the library up. Looking up and down the street, Roderich saw Wolferl’s white-tipped tail disappear around the corner, Roderich running to try and catch up, his cat leading him on a long chase. Seeing his cat go through some bushes, Roderich groaned but crawled after him, muttering that Wolferl wouldn’t be getting any sort of fancy cat food for a  _ long _ time.

 

Able to stand upright once out of the bushes, Roderich continued to run. Seeing a patch of ice, Roderich bravely leapt over it, clearing it. Panting, Roderich felt like he was going to die from the amount of running he was having to do to chase down his scarf-thief cat, and wondering if this was going to be worth it. Trying to keep up, he stumbled, the knees of his pants tearing as his knees scraped the sidewalk, as well as his wrists, Roderich gasping at the pain. Slowly getting upright, Roderich stood stiffly and limped his way over to the stairs in front of an apartment building, sitting down and sobbing at how terrible this night had become. 

 

His cat had just ran away with his scarf, he was bleeding and standing hurt like a  _ bitch _ , he was cold and old and alone, and he couldn’t find his soulmate. Roderich gulped, trying to breath through his crying but finding it so incredibly hard. Roderich was so tired of this. Having no one and nothing, and being left all. Alone. Unable to keep his composure, Roderich tore at his hair and screamed, done with tonight. Biting his tongue, Roderich cry was cut short, the Austrian hating himself for being stupid enough to to scream in the middle of a city. Mutely getting up, Roderich hobbled down the street, flinching whenever he passed under a streetlight, feeling like he was being mocked as he, who had crept through time silently like a shadow, was revealed time and again to the light.

 

Roderich was thankful that it was late enough that their weren’t people out on the streets in this cold and bitter winter. No one was around to see if he broke down. Not the first time, and Roderich doubted the last time, Roderich decided to take the long way home. Through the park and over the bridge, the river too fast for the water to freeze over. His steps crunched each time one of his feet came down, echoing on the street, Roderich marveling at his weakness. Would he do it this time? His temptation? One didn’t go through a thousand centuries without thinking about it. Suicide. And it took so little some days to just push Roderich over the edge. A sardonic grin flit across his lips at the thought.  _ Push him over the edge _ . The steam of his breath rising from his mouth, the bridge lightly swung as he walked to the middle, then pulled himself up to sit on the railing.

 

He hated himself. Roderich truly did as he stared down at the black water churning beneath him. The Austrian would be leaving behind a soulmate, just as Elizaveta had left him. An event that had left him in a million pieces. He wondered how his soulmate would react when he realized five, ten years from now that he wasn’t aging. Would he be relieved? Not forced to be with someone who was centuries older than he was. Not forced to be with a soulmate who was selfish and scared and had run away at their first meeting. Or would he be sad? Sad that someone who was his ‘perfect’ other half had died before he could get to know him? Know who the universe was so perfect and marvelous and wonderful that they were fated to be together? Roderich paused at that. That sounded wrong. That- Roderich realized. That was what he was going to  missing out on if he died. If he threw himself into the water and drowned, freezing to death.

 

The light patter of feet and the whisper of fabric over snow  reached Roderich’s ears, the Austrian turning to see Wolferl walking towards him with his scarf. A man was behind him, warily looking at Roderich. He spoke to Roderich gently, as if speaking to a wild animal.

 

“Are you okay, amigo?” Roderich smiled.

 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I want to live.” The man quirked his head to the side, squinting at Roderich.

 

“I . . I feel like I know you.” Roderich’s smile softened.

 

“You probably will. Get to know me, that is.” Antonio’s eyes widened, his hand trembling as he reached for Roderich.

 

“You- it’s  _ you- _ ” Roderich turned, his own hand reaching for Antonio’s- when he slipped, falling off the bridge.

 

“ _ Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! _ ” Roderich screamed in fear and pain as he fell, his arm wrenched up as Antonio’s hand held his own in a vice-grip, refusing to let go. Huffing, Antonio used his muscles to pull the lighter man up and over the railing, falling backwards on the bridge, his soulmate landing solidly on his chest with a sharp gasp.

 

“Please, please don’t ever do that again. Please, don’t leave me.” Antonio found himself faintly pleading with the man on top of him, his arms wrapped his- god, his soulmate was tiny, he was going to make sure that his soulmate was going to  _ eat _ after they got off this bridge, and -his thought process came to a halt when his soulmate clung to him, promising just that.

 

“I won’t, I won’t. I won’t leave you, I promise, I’m so sorry, I’m horrible and stupid and so selfish for doing that to you and I’m  _ so, so sorry _ -” Antonio gently hushed him.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Antonio scooted them into a sitting position, keeping his fragile soulmate in his lap, “I’m Antonio. What’s your name?”

 

“R-Roderich,” The Austrian sniffled, rubbing the arm Antonio had held onto, soothing some of the ache.

 

“Hi Roderich.” Antonio beamed at his soulmate.  **_His_ ** _ soulmate! _ Antonio stood, picking up Roderich bridal style, since it was the easiest, Roderich-  **_Roderich_ ** -squeaking cutely. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Not anymore. And- and neither am I?” It came out as more of a question than Antonio wanted to, looking tentatively at Roderich, reassured when  **his** soulmate nodded.

 

“I won’t leave you. Only if you want me to.” Roderich hung on when Antonio immediately shook his head.

 

“No, no way would I ever want my soulmate to leave me. I’ve been looking for you for over a month, there’s no way I’m going to let you go now.” Roderich chuckled, gesturing to how Antonio was carrying him.

 

“So I see,” Roderich replied dryly, “However, could you put me down for a second? I would like to put on my scarf.” Antonio flushed, gingerly setting Roderich down so that the other could kneel and collect his scarf from his cat. As he wrapped his scarf around his neck, Antonio saw his work badge.

 

“You work at the library?”

 

“Yes?” Roderich frowned in confusion when Antonio facepalmed. “What’s the matter?”

 

“I went there tonight, I was the last person to leave.” Roderich blinked.

 

“I was the only librarian there tonight- “ Roderich groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Is this honestly happening? Did we seriously just go through all of this, only to find out if we had just looked  _ up _ , we would have found each other then and there?”

 

Antonio tenderly removed Roderich’s hands from his face, boldly kissing the older man on the cheek. “Si, but I think this is a better story, don’t you?” Roderich quirked his head to the side. “I was the prince who got to save the voiceless mermaid from throwing herself off the side of the ship.”

 

“Like the story?” Roderich asked.

 

“Si,  _ The Little Mermaid _ .” Roderich smiled.

 

“Yes, that was a better story, wasn’t it?” Roderich paused when Antonio’s eyes seemed to light up. “Yes?”

 

“Join me for another story?” Roderich would never say no to an invitation like that. Not in a thousand years.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, kudos, subscribe, and bookmark, please?

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, kudos, subscribe, and bookmark, please?


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